Keegan (Wounded Hero Book 1)

by Marysol James

  “So why were you leaving early?” she asked Kelly. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, so it’s not a work day, is it?”

  “The life of a single Mom,” Kelly said. “Early mornings at weekends mean early nights from parties.”

  “Oh, right. How old is your kid?”

  “Janie’s seven.”

  “That’s a good age, right?”

  “Can be, when she wants it to be.” Kelly grinned again and took a gulp of coffee. “She’s… erm… spirited is probably the best word. But truthfully, her Dad will come and get her tomorrow morning because, as luck would have it, I am doing some traveling for work. I have a morning flight and a dinner meeting tomorrow night in Kansas, then I’ll be out there for a few days. I hope no later than Tuesday or Wednesday.”

  “You said that you’re a lawyer?”

  “Yep. Criminal mostly, but I dabble in corporate work too.”

  “She’s kickass at it too,” Keegan said. “She may be little but she’s fierce, boy. She scares the hell outta me sometimes.”

  “Oh, sure.” Kelly shook her head affectionately. “This man could crush me with his pinky but I scare him.”

  “And Kelly said something about – about you having your own business?” Trish said to Keegan. “Do you own – I don’t know. A private security company or something?”

  Keegan threw back his dark head and laughed a deep, rough laugh, and it was one of the sexiest things that Trish had ever seen. Lightning-quick, she flashed to licking that corded throat, to feeling his strong pulse under her tongue. She blinked, tried to focus again.

  “It’s funny how many people assume that I’m a bodyguard,” he said, clearly amused. “Makes me wonder why the hell I ain’t one.”

  “You sure have the skills,” Kelly said. “If tonight’s beat-down shows anything.”

  “And Kelly said that you’re… ummm. I can’t remember exactly. Ex-soldier?”

  “Ex-special ops,” Keegan said. “Military.”

  “I – don’t know what that means.”

  “Basically, military units are trained to do special operations. Different units get different trainin’ and have different skill sets. I was part of a unit in Afghanistan that was mostly focused on hostage rescue and high-value target monitorin’ and capture.”

  “Oh.” Trish stared at him, astounded at what the man must have seen and done; also, the idiot in the parking lot had clearly been dead meat from the get-go. Keegan was a trained killer, so taking down a moron wedding guest was undoubtedly child’s play for him. “That sounds… dangerous.”

  “It was,” he said in a voice like gravel. “I was terrified every fuckin’ day.”

  “It’s also where he learned to use the ‘f’ word as a noun, adjective, verb and adverb at breakfast, lunch and dinner,” Kelly said with an eye roll. “Those military boys are hardcore.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry,” Keegan said to Trish again. “I ain’t the best-spoken man walkin’ the earth.” He nodded at his sister. “She got the brains and the good grammar, I got the looks and the muscles.”

  “Fair trade,” Kelly said. “I hate the desert and he hates offices. It all worked out just fine.”

  “So if you’re not a bodyguard, what do you do?” Trish said, amazed at how interested she was to know the answer. So far, the man had been one surprise after another – and she suspected that he had plenty more. “Maybe a white knight for hire?”

  “Is that a job?” he asked with great interest. “Where do I sign up?”

  “Damsels In Distress dot com,” Trish said breezily. “You can register and leave your CV and see if they send you to another damsel in a parking lot!”

  “You got a smart mouth, huh?” Keegan said with a grin.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Yeah well, I like it. Feisty women are more interestin’.”

  Trish batted her eyelashes at him as she sipped her tea and he laughed.

  “Anyway, I own a bakery-slash-small café,” Keegan said, catching her by surprise yet again. “I do all the bakin’ for my café and about a dozen other places around Denver. I do some parties too. Cupcakes and bigger cakes and I bake my own bread, so I do sandwiches for office lunches. You know, stuff like that.”

  “You – what?” Trish tried to picture this man – this man who had rescued hostages and tracked terrorists in a war zone – in a cheerful striped apron happily decorating pink cupcakes for a kid’s fourth birthday party. “You – bake?”

  “Yeah, I know. Most people don’t see that comin’.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Hard to imagine it, right?” Kelly said. “But he’s great at it. Any time my office has a party and we need cake, Kee gets the job.”

  “But you also manage the café?”

  “It’s ain’t just me, darlin’. I’ve got three other bakers, four café staff, delivery guys… it’s a business and it ain’t the kind that I can run alone. I mean, I ain’t headin’ into work until late tomorrow mornin’ ‘cause I was plannin’ to be cuttin’ a rug until well into the wee hours. I’m the boss and I set the hours, though it all took more time and hard work that I want to remember – but I’ve got it now.”

  “That’s… that’s amazing,” Trish said slowly. “To build up something like that.”

  “It’s like anythin’. You put your mind to it and you don’t stop until you get what you want.” Keegan’s silver gaze burned through her. “I’m a big believer in second chances and makin’ your own luck in some ways, but I don’t believe any of it happens if you sit on your ass.”

  Trish nodded slowly.

  “What about you?” Kelly asked her. “You said that you’re not from Colorado?”

  “No. Maine originally, but I just moved here from L.A.”

  “L.A.?” Keegan asked. “No kiddin’.”

  “Nope.”

  “How’d you end up way out there? You went from one end of the country clear to the other. Couldn’t have ended farther away from where you started if you tried.”

  “Oh, well.” Trish shrugged, embarrassed to share one of her many life failures in front of these two wildly-successful and impressive people. “You’re looking at one more stupid girl who wanted to be a movie star. Moved to California when she was seventeen to do just that and like ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the dreamers, she crashed and burned. Became a waitress to pay the bills and never became anything else. It’s what I still am, really.”

  “Why Denver, though?” Keegan said. “You got family here?”

  “Dunno and no. I’ve always liked the looks of The Rockies and let’s face it, I can be a waitress anywhere there’s hungry people. It’s not exactly a specialized skill.”

  “Is waitressing your full-time work?” Kelly asked. “I mean, do you have something besides the catering thing?”

  “No, not full-time anymore. I moved here almost two years ago and I’ve done casual part-time stuff for cash mostly, and even though it pays the bills most of the time, it doesn’t really pay enough to save much. I’m looking for something more regular, like in a restaurant or something, but the hours can be crazy.” Trish played with her tea cup. “I actually just got a new job a couple of months ago. Something pretty different for me.”

  “Yeah?” Keegan said. “What’s that?”

  “Kind of an assisted-living thing. A woman named Meredith needs live-in help.”

  “Is she elderly?” Kelly asked.

  “Yeah. She had a bad fall a few months ago and uses a walker now for balance. Her sons wanted her to go to an old-age place, you know? But Meredith is stubborn and rich and runs that family like the Queen, so she told her kids no goddamn way.”

  Keegan and Kelly laughed.

  “I like her,” Keegan said. “So instead of her movin’ out, they brought someone in?”

  “Exactly. Me.”

  “Are you qualified medically?” Kelly asked.

  “Not even a bit. I can put a bandaid on a finger.” Trish shrugged. “I’m more for… company. I
start at seven every morning and I do as much or as little as she tells me. We watch TV and go to the grocery store and for walks. She loves sweet stuff, so she’s always after me to have tea and cookies with her in cute little cafés and she loves to talk. I help her around the house with chores and I help her get dressed every day and ready for bed every night. She has trouble getting in and out of the tub and into bed, so I move her around safely. I make sure she takes her medication and I cook and keep an eye on her. You know.”

  “So her health is generally good?” Kelly said. “Aside from the balance issue?”

  “Yep. I’ll take her for monthly doctor’s visits and she does have a nurse and doctor on-call, because money buys that kind of thing, which is amazing to me. There’s also another woman named Nora who will cover for me on my days off, or when I’m waitressing late, like tonight. So really, part-time work is fine when I factor in the work for Meredith.”

  “And you live at her house?”

  “Living rent-free is one of the biggest perks of the job for someone like me. Meredith’s place is huge and I had my choice of seven bedrooms.” Trish smiled. “I chose one with a fireplace and a view of the mountains.”

  “Sweet set-up,” Keegan commented. “What do the sons think?”

  “Well…” Trish’s face clouded over. “They weren’t happy.”

  “About Meredith not going to a senior center?” Kelly said. “Or about you?”

  “Both. They fought tooth-and-nail against having someone live in, then they decided that if Meredith was hell-bent on it, they’d choose the person. They were interviewing nurses and ex-doctors and students in med school – and Meredith hated every one of them. Said they were boring. She said that she wanted someone fun to live with and when her sons started to push things with a retired nurse, Meredith just said that she’d choose and for them to stay the hell out of it.”

  “And she chose you,” Keegan said. “She liked you from the get-go?”

  “She said she did. To this day, I’m still not totally sure why. I mean, she put an ad in the grocery store, if you can believe it, and she’d been hearing from crazies night and day, I guess. Her kids were horrified and took the sign down, but not before I’d seen it and written the phone number down. I called, talked to Meredith, she invited me over for tea and cake and – well. She hired me on the spot. No references besides Doreen, my boss who was at the wedding tonight. I get a nice chunk of cash in hand every month and all my food paid for, and I enjoy spending time with her. She’s opinionated and pretty traditional and conservative, but she’s smart as a whip and keeps me on my toes. I like her.”

  “Amazin’ that it happened that fast and easy,” Keegan commented.

  “Or stupid,” Trish said wryly. “I could be a serial killer or something so in that way, I get what her kids were worried about and why they wanted a qualified nurse with an agency behind her. But Meredith said that she’d choose who she’d be living with, thank you very much, and the kids backed off. I mean, they check in with her pretty often and they drop by unannounced, but I guess they have to make sure that I’m not spiking their mother’s tea or making off with the silverware.”

  “Fair enough,” Kelly said. “You saw that coming, I’m sure.”

  “Of course. I have zero worries what they’ll find if they just show up. I mean, usually we’re just eating cookies and watching an action movie. Meredith has a thing for Jason Statham and I don’t mind watching a tattooed, military type run around blowing things up.”

  “Is that so?” Keegan drawled as he took off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves on his crisp white dress shirt. “You got a thing for tattooed, military types, darlin’?”

  Trish blushed as she took in the tattoos running the length of Keegan’s strong, defined forearms. God, she loved that part of a man’s body and she didn’t understand why more women didn’t go for it. She loved the way that the veins stood up and out, the way that the muscles flexed and relaxed with every movement, even something as simple and casual as lifting a coffee cup. And frankly, Keegan’s forearms were masterpieces, odes to absolute perfection.

  “Uhhh,” she stammered, suddenly clueless where to actually look. “Maybe.”

  “OK.” Kelly set her empty cup down and got to her feet. “That’s my cue.”

  “Wait – what?” Trish looked up at her, horrified. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve got to get home,” Kelly said with a grin as she opened her elegant gold clutch and took out her wallet. “You seem to be OK in terms of your alertness and speech, and your eyes are focusing fine. That bruising on your wrists isn’t that bad after all, and nothing is coming up on your face. I’m traveling to Kansas tomorrow, remember, so I need a decent night’s rest.”

  “Yes, but…” Trish flailed. “But how do I get back to Meredith’s place? Back home?”

  “I told you that I’d give you money to get back out to Open Skies for your car tomorrow,” Kelly said, putting three one-hundred dollar bills on the table. “And I’m also paying for you to take a taxi home tonight.”

  “Oh.” Trish stared at the money, unable to believe that anyone could just walk around with that kind of easy cash. Clearly, being a lawyer was the way to go. “Oh, no. Kelly, that’s too much –”

  “Then use the difference to drop by Kee’s bakery café and buy some sweet stuff for you and Meredith,” Kelly said mischievously. “Deal?”

  “Uhhh.” Trish blushed some more. “Ummm…”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Kelly wrapped her elegant, expensive cloak around her shoulders, then gave her brother a kiss on the cheek as he stood up to give her a bear hug. “You make sure that Trish gets home safe now, you hear?”

  “You know it, Kel. Goodnight. Text me when you get home and give Janie a kiss from her uncle.”

  “I always do, and I will.” She smiled at Trish and extended her hand. “Bye Trish. I hate the circumstances under which we met, but it’s good to meet you.”

  Trish took the proffered hand and shook it. “You too. Goodnight, Kelly. Thank you for helping me.”

  They watched as Kelly headed out the door with a nod at the waitress, watched as she walked across the street to her car. She gave them a wave as she drove off, and they waved back.

  Then they were alone.

  Keegan was just sitting across from her calmly drinking his coffee, so huge and gorgeous in that dress shirt. Without her noticing, he’d removed his tie and unfastened his collar, and now she saw his golden chest peeking out from the top of the crisp white material. She caught a flash of more ink, the hard curve of muscle, dark hair. In that suit, he was the strangest combination of perfect gentleman and barely-restrained animal. Keegan had an edge to him, a darkness, a wildness that was impossible to contain or hide under expensive clothes and clean lines – and she found herself drawn to him in a way that she never thought she would be again. Not after what had happened in L.A.

  Suddenly, Trish felt like she was in way over her damn head. She’d never felt so uncertain about what a guy was all about, not in the whole of her life.

  Ever since she’d turned thirteen, Trish had been aware of her effect on men. Before she’d even understood what the hell it was or what it meant, she’d noticed how they looked at her, their eyes a weird combination of glazed-over and over-bright. As she’d grown up and out, as her curves had started to emerge high and tight, as her face had become fresh and sweet yet somehow still knowing, the glazed looks had become honeyed words: compliments, offers, promises, invitations.

  Trish had discovered that her looks were a kind of power. The problem was, she had no clue what to do with it for a long time.

  She wasn’t book smart and she knew that good and well – she’d dropped out of high school at seventeen to go to Hollywood, but she’d never have graduated anyway. She was a ‘C’ student and that was only because the besotted male teachers passed her, gave her better grades on papers than she deserved. If she were being honest, she knew that if she we
re being marked fairly, she’d have been a ‘D’ student, ‘F’ in things like math and biology and chemistry.

  No, she was no student but by seventeen, Trish had street smarts and she knew people. Specifically, Trish knew men.

  She knew what they wanted, even when they didn’t. She understood the power of their fantasies and how to make them happen – and when to cruelly deny them what their hearts desired the most. She could play any role required by a man: sweet housewife-in-training type, or knowing schoolgirl; shy, demure virgin, or craven, wanton slut. She teased and taunted, she promised and then withheld.

  She learned how to play the game. She learned how to win. She was a born actress and she thought that she’d be a star.

  God, she had been so fucking wrong.

  Hollywood had taken one look at her golden-haired, purple-eyed beauty, her petite, bikini-perfect body – and yawned. Back in Maine, she’d been a stark raving beauty; in Hollywood, she was one of the thousands. The tens of thousands. She was nobody and she had no connections, so she got no genuine offers beyond some catwalk modeling at shopping malls.

  But that thing that she had, that secret knowledge of how men worked and what made them tick – that never went away, not once in the tiresome, thankless eight years of trying to become an actress. She never forgot how to cater to the fantasies of rich and powerful men, men who she hoped would somehow help her connect with her big break.

  Except the break that she was finally offered at the age of twenty-five – when she’d been broke and desperate and homeless – wasn’t the one that she’d imagined. Not even close. But…

  In porn, it was still all about male fantasies, male desires, the male gaze. It was all about what men wanted and what women did to make sure that men got what they wanted – Trish had understood that on every level and in every way and she never judged it or rationalized it. It was what it was: it was more of the same. That understanding of the power structure made her a woman in demand, a well-off woman, a woman who eventually called her own shots in a male-dominated and -powered industry.

  That understanding made her a star.